


Off the Grid

by depthsofmysol



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depthsofmysol/pseuds/depthsofmysol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two days. Forty-eight hours. That was what they'd agreed on, before taking the job in Belarus. Two days. Forty-eight hours. That was when they were supposed to meet in Croatia, and turn over the information they'd extracted. Two days. Forty-eight hours. That had been over seven days ago, and still no sign of Arthur. It wasn't going to be easy, but Eames refused to leave a man behind. Even if that man was an unimaginative, stick-in-the-mud. Arthur had saved his life on numerous occasions, and now, it was time to return to the favour. He just had to hope he wasn't too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eamesish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eamesish/gifts).



> I hope you have a wonderful birthday, darling! <33

Two days. Forty-eight hours. That was what they'd agreed on, before taking the job in Belarus. It was shorter than their usual two week silence, but the man who'd hired them was rather insistent that he get the information sooner, rather than later. They'd made certain he understood that what they did took time, that they wouldn't be able to produce results overnight. He seemed to have understood, and maybe that should have been their first hint that something was off about the job. Two days. Forty-eight hours. That was when they were supposed to meet in Croatia, and turn over the information they'd extracted. Eames had been the extractor on this particular job, and while they'd both been hired for the job, the client didn't care if only one of them showed up for the meeting. He was all about the information. Another hint that their client wasn't everything they'd assumed him to be. Two days. Forty-eight hours. That had been over seven days ago, and still no sign of Arthur. That wasn't like him. When they'd agreed on a time and a place, the point man was never one to not show up. He knew the point man could handle himself, but this was more than just going off the grid. That little voice in his head, the one he tended to ignore, was telling him something had happened. And whatever it was, had more than seven days head start on him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Nine days ago_

The job had gone easier than they'd expected. A little too easy, if Arthur thought about it. Their client had hired them to extract information from the CEO of one of his rivals, something about wanting to know if the rumours of a hostile take-over were true. He hadn't cared about how they got the information, just that they'd gotten it. In their line of work, this particular job was a familiar one, and the client, a type they'd worked with many times over. Usually, they were a bit more concerned about their own welfare. This one seemed far more interested in the information, and less about his own personal safety. It probably should have raised some sort of warning flags, but the money was good, and nothing in his research had indicated any problems. If it had, neither one of them would have accepted the job, let alone brought along their trusted architect, Sofia.

They'd worked a handful of jobs with the red-headed Australian, and when they needed someone in a pinch, could always count on her. They also trusted her. Too many times in the past, they'd dealt with extractors, or architects, who thought only about the money, and had double-crossed them, selling the information back to the mark for at least double the pay. Luckily, Sofia was all business, and had even experienced something similar. That was how Arthur, and even Eames, knew they could trust the woman with their lives if it came right down to it. It was also why they'd asked her to join them. Having someone they could trust, even with a suspiciously easy job, meant they could focus on the details of the job.

"Pleasure working with you, again, Sofia," he called to the woman, as he rolled up the tubing from the PASIV. Their mark would be under for a little while longer, and while they'd all helped clean up the bedroom, Arthur just wanted to be certain everything was tied up. He hated having loose ends. Especially in their line of work, where one minute clue left behind could end their all of their lives.

"As always, boys. Should do this again, sometime. Maybe something a bit more _challenging_."

Eames knew her comment was directed towards him, and giving the woman one of his infamous grins, went back to finishing up destroying the last of the evidence. It had been easy breaking into the mark's house; his home's security system was a joke, and something he could have cracked blindfolded. His sub-security, on the other hand, was a bit more difficult. Arthur had mentioned something about the man being militarized, and when they'd gone under, had found out that his militarization was just as much a joke as the security system on his house. Whoever taught the man, had absolutely no idea what he was doing. A shame, really. He'd been hoping for some sort of challenge, considering their last few jobs had been relatively easy. Maybe, he hoped, their next one would actually pose something of a challenge.

"Money should be in your account in seventy-two hours, Sof, and thanks again," the words were rather trite, and snapping the metal case containing their PASIV closed, knew it was time to head out. The plan had been for them all to split up, and meeting Eames forty-eight hours later, to hand over the information they'd extracted. Arthur hadn't been fond of meeting so soon after a job, but that was what their client had asked for, and since they'd yet to be paid, he had agreed with the meeting. 

"Eames? Split sound good?" He'd never really been to that particular Croatian city, but being on the coast, and offering numerous ways out of the city, it had seemed like a good choice. Arthur had always preferred having as many back-up plans as possible, and given how easy this particular job had gone, he had a feeling he was going to need at least one, if not two. All of his research had come up clean, and yet, he still couldn't quite rid himself of the feeling that this job was too easy. Hopefully, putting the job, and the country, behind them would relieve the concerns he couldn't quite shake. If not, then a vacation might actually be in order. And anyone who actually knew him, knew that he hated taking time away. 

"Sounds like a plan, love," Eames replied, making certain their architect had left, before waltzing up to the point man, curling his hand around the man's neck, and pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Most people knew he and Arthur worked together more often than not. What most people didn't know was how closely their personal lives mirrored their professonal ones. Of all the people Eames had worked with over the years, Arthur was one of the few people he trusted with his life. Mal was another, but she was currently busy with Dom doing research. Or, at least that was what she'd told him the last time they talked. Anyone else, and he refused to trust them with something as important as his own life.

"Forty-eight hours, Mister Eames," came the whispered reply, and Arthur couldn't help but wrap his own hand around the forger's neck, bringing their foreheads together. This was one of the harder aspects of their job – having to leave Eames, knowing that being together would only make getting caught all the easier. Normally, they wouldn't see each other for at least two weeks. Part of the precautions they'd taken, after deciding that being together, both professional and personally, was what they'd wanted. But their client wanted to see them forty-eight hours after the job was done, and now, he had to make his way from Belarus to Croatia. The only comfort he could take would be knowing that Eames would be there, waiting for him.

"Forty-eight hours, darling," he replied, cheekily, and grabbed the metal case containing their PASIV, "and don't be late! You know how I hate waiting."

Any other person, and Arthur might have made some sort of snappy comment. But with Eames, all he could do was laugh, and watch the forger leave. He was many things, but being late to one of their meetings he wasn't. Usually, he was the one having to wait on Eames, the man's inability to actually arrive on time one of the many things that irked him. His absolute brilliance as a forger, as well as his slightly overprotective nature, tended to make him overlook the other things. It also helped that they worked well together, knew that they would always have the others back, and rarely had to say anything. They just instinctively knew.

Giving the room one last glance, Arthur knew it was time to leave. Everything that needed to be done, was done, and as he walked out of the house, made a mental note to thoroughly vet their next client. They'd each taken separate cars, and his was parked a few blocks down from the mark's house. Their staggering departures, he hoped, wouldn't give the neighbours any cause for alarm. In the past, they'd had to deal with nosey neighbours deciding to call the authorities, and having to rush their clean-up jobs, leaving them wide open to having to deal with more than just the local authorities. It was why they normally used abandoned warehouses, or other places of business for their jobs. A mark's personal residence was something they avoided at all costs. There were just too many variables, and for a man like Arthur, the more variables, the less likely he was to accept a job.

The cool night air was a welcome change, having spent far too long inside their mark's house. With each step he took, he knew he was one step closer to putting all his reservations behind him. With each step, he was closer to putting the job, the country, and everything else that had bothered him, behind him. He could see the rental ahead, and adjusting the messenger bag slung across his shoulder, could actually feel someone watching him. Even worse, he could hear someone following him. Whoever they were, they weren't as good as they thought they were. Arthur knew there was no way he could make it to the car, and giving his surroundings a quick once over, knew there was no where for him to properly defend himself. He was screwed; no way he was getting out of the city, let alone the country, in one piece.

And in that one brief second, that one momentary lapse of judgement, he felt a stinging sensation in his shoulder, followed immediately by his world turning completely black. For the first time, in a very long time, Arthur knew he was going to be late to his meeting with Eames.


	3. Chapter 3

_Five days ago – Split, Croatia_

Four days had passed since they'd completed the job, and two days since the meeting with their client. Eames very rarely worried about Arthur, knowing the man was more than capable of taking care of himself. But the last time the point man had missed a meeting, he'd been kidnapped, and nearly killed by a mark they'd extracted some very _delicate_ information from. At the time, their architect had decided to double-cross them, and earn double the money by giving the mark the location of their base of operations. It had been a bloody miracle he'd found Arthur, and made it out in one piece. This time, they'd brought along someone they trusted, someone they _knew_ wouldn't go behind their backs, and sell them out. Sofia had had the same thing happen to her, at one point, and she knew to be just as cautious about team-mates as they were. There was no way that their friend, someone they trusted, would have turned over the information.

Which meant either the mark knew the whole time, and allowed them to gather the information, or their client had played them. It had happened in the past; a client needing their help with some sort of plan, and the instant it was completed, decided to make certain there was no one around to link them back to the crime. Money tended to be no issue to this particular clients, and now, looking back on their last one, he seemed to fit the mould perfectly. But, it still didn't explain the lack of Arthur's presence. He could have run into other troubles, such as his inability to get out of Belarus. Something Eames knew to be slightly impossible, as the passports they were using were clean. He could have decided to drive, instead of flying. Another thing he knew to be implausible. A quick search of the alias Arthur was using turned up nothing. The credit card statements didn't have him renting another car, and the one he'd rented in Belarus had been returned.

None of it made any sense. Everything pointed to the fact that the point man should have been there, in Split, helping to plan their next move. The money had been deposited in their accounts, and the client seemed rather happy with the information they'd extracted. It had all gone according to plan. And, yet it hadn't. Unfortunately, it wasn't the time to start worrying about Arthur. Eames had already decided if he didn't show up within the next two days, he would start making some calls, see if anyone had heard anything. Their little community, while made up of thieves, was also one of the best places to gather information. Someone would know just what happened to the point man. And if not? A certain French architect might be able to help him out. Mal, though, was going to be his last resort. Not because they weren't friends. But because it meant dealing with her fiancée. A man, he felt, would never be good enough for her.

\---

_Sarajevo_

"… one more time, …"

_Everything_ hurt. And anything that didn't, Arthur was quite certain would, after they were done with him. The first day, or at least what he'd assumed had been the first day, they'd spent roughing him up in an attempt to get the answers to their questions. He vaguely remembered hearing the sounds of bone crushing, and feeling like his whole body was ready to give up whatever it took to make the pain stop. His mind, on the other hand, knew better, knew that it would take more than just breaking his body to get him to crack. Torture was something he'd been through before – not just because of his military training, but he'd been taken under before, and tortured within an inch of his life, before Eames had rescued him. 

This time was different. This time, they weren't using a PASIV. Even though he knew they had one. He vaguely remembered seeing the silver case that first day, when he'd actually made an attempt at trying to figure out just where they were. The last thing Arthur remembered was walking towards his car outside of the mark's house in Belarus. Now, he had no clue where he was. Though, something told him they weren't in Belarus any more. It didn't feel like it, and the sounds that did make it through the windows, made him think otherwise, as well. And that didn't begin to take into count the smells. He couldn't put a finger on it, but it just smelled differently. Wherever he was, it wasn't Belarus. 

Which meant, locating him was going to be next to impossible. He was going to die. There was no other way out of it. Arthur knew he could try holding out, but in their line of work, when one disappeared it usually wasn't because they were sick of the job. He also wasn't about to give up the location they were looking for. Loyalty meant much more to him than any job, and while he'd only worked with Cobb on a couple occasions, he wasn't about to give up his location. Not for any amount of money, or cessation of pain.

"I have no idea – "

The taste of copper quickly filled his mouth. It was a taste he'd never get used to, and having tasted it far more than usual during his stay, wondered if physical violence was the only way they knew how to get information. Arthur had no idea just how long they'd kept him captive, but each time, it seemed like all they'd done, besides asking him the same question over and over again, was use their physical size against him. Granted, being tied to a chair made beating him to a pulp relatively easy. But he'd like to think he would have at least given them a run for their money. 

"Arthur," the feminine voice purred into his ear, "all we need is a location, and all of this terribleness will be over."

He recognized the voice, the sickening smell of her perfume, and the way her touch sent shivers up his spine. Sylvia had been one of the better forgers in the business. Not as good as Eames, of course, but she would have definitely given him some sort of challenge. The last time Arthur had seen her had been in Montreal, where they were working with Dominic Cobb on a simple extraction. If he remembered right, the job had gone well, and the mark was none the wiser about what had gone on inside of his head. That job had nothing to do with the one they'd just pulled off. Nothing at all. If it had, he would have come across it in his research.

So why, after all this time, was she the one handling his interrogation? Were they dreaming, and they needed a forger? Arthur was normally pretty good about knowing what was a dream, and what was reality, and as far as he could tell, they were still in the waking world. Though, he would have felt more comfortable with the loaded red die sitting in his pants pocket. At least with that, he would have known for certain whether or not they were dreaming. But no, he was stuck staring at the blonde, wondering just what she had in mind for him. Eventually, their methods would end up either killing him, or possibly breaking him. And Arthur was holding out for the latter; even though he knew the former was probably more likely.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sylvia. Or haven't your boys been paying attention?" He knew his answers had frustrated the men, and could tell each time they landed a blow, that it was more their frustrations they were taking out, and less about the fact he was refusing to cooperate. It still didn't stop him from telling them the same thing over, and over again. Eventually, they would find a new way to get the answers from him. Or they would just kill him. Either or, he'd decided he wasn't going to give up the information they wanted. No matter what.

"Oh, Arthur," he heard her say, a split second before he felt a burning, almost blinding, pain in his leg. As much as he wanted to cry out, to let them know that they'd actually made a dent in his armour, he didn't. All he could do was stifle the pain as best he could, and continue the staring contest with the forger in front of him. It was now a game, and one, he refused to lose. Not without more of a fight. Even though, the blood loss from his wound would make it difficult, he knew he could hold out far longer than a normal person. He just had to hope that someone, or more specifically, _Eames_ , had figured out he was in trouble, and would start tracking down his location.

"I _really_ didn't want to do that, but you left us no choice. Always so stubborn, and stupid. Why do you refuse to give us his location? Hmm? What has Dominic Cobb done to have you so blindly loyal to him?"

Feeling her breath on his skin had Arthur immediately turning his head, wishing he had another way to coil back from the woman. She'd always made him feel uncomfortable, and while he was good at hiding just what he felt, under the current circumstances, it was difficult to hide his pain, and his disdain for the woman. 

"How can I tell you something I _don't_ know, Sylvia. So why don't you let me go, and we'll call it even." Arthur had given up on trying to hide his disdain, preferring to let it come through in his words, the way they were laced with an undertone of hatred that he knew she would pick up on. As thieves, they would do anything for a certain amount of money, and he wondered just what had been offered for Cobb. It had to have been a decent amount, as he remembered Sylvia being hesitant about taking the Montreal job because of it's lower than usual pay. 

And just _what_ did they want with Dom? What had he done this time? They'd worked a couple of jobs together. That was it. He didn't know the man's location, and even if he did, Cobb and Mal were good people, even better at building dreams, and there was no way he would give them up. Not to someone like Sylvia. 

"See, that's where you're wrong," her words came out almost at a whisper, and feeling her breath across his ear, again he felt the need to be sick. Arthur also heard the distinct sound of a table being dragged, and for a moment, wondered if they had finally decided to use something other than physical violence.

"You don't need to tell us a thing. We'll just take it from you."

Without having to say a thing, Arthur knew his situation had gone from bad to worse. Sylvia knew he was militarized, knew they would be ripped to shreds in his dreams. It explained exactly why they'd beaten him like they had. Healthy, he would kill them all before they got a chance to extract the information. In his current state, it would be easier to get the information without the prospect of being killed by his projections. It would also give them the opportunity to break him. Some things, depending on the person, were easier done in a dream than in reality. Breaking a person like Arthur, just happened to be one of those things.


	4. Chapter 4

_Ten days post job – Paris_

Eames had spent the better part of the last four days trying to find anything on Arthur. All the evidence pointed to the point man still being in Belarus, but his instincts were telling him otherwise. If there had been any sort of problem, he knew Arthur would have contacted him, and not just gone off the grid. The point man had been the one to set up all their protocols, and neither of them had ever broken them. Not even that one time, when he'd been held up by customs, and they tried to pick apart his alias. Even then, he found a way to contact Arthur, and let him know there had been a problem. Of everything they'd discussed when they set up their protocols, going off the grid like this wasn't one of them. It was why he'd now decided to worry about Arthur. Even though he told himself he wouldn't. 

The point man could take care of himself. But this? This wasn't about that. This was personal. This was him concerned about someone he loved, someone who'd saved his arse more times than he could count, someone whom he owed more favours than he liked to think about. Whatever happened to Arthur, he was going to find out, and then – then he was going to make them pay. He'd sent out feelers to all of his contacts, asking if anyone of them had heard anything about a bounty, or about Arthur's location, and all of them, so far, had come up empty. As far as they knew, no one was looking for the point man. Which meant it was time to call in one last favour. 

Eames wasn't a big fan of Paris, and even worse, he hated to drop in on Mal unexpected. But given the fact he was under a deadline, he hoped she would at least understand. They'd been friends since his early days in dream sharing, and had been the one to introduce him to Arthur. If given a choice, he would have preferred working with Mal, instead of having to use different extractors, and architects for each new job. Then again, Mal had told him she'd preferred working in a lab, and not out in the field, and that it would be good for him to work with other people every once and a while.

More like frustrating, he thought, walking up the stairs that lead to the apartment he knew Mal was living in. Eames had spent most of the day making certain no one was following him, as well as making certain his friend was still living in the same building she had when they originally met. The last thing he wanted was to lead whoever had Arthur back to his friends. He also wanted to make certain that no one was actually following them, either. His thoughts still drifted back to Arthur, and hoped that he was still alive. The point man was the first person he'd trusted with his life, and to lose him because of something they could have controlled wasn't something he wanted to think about. He also didn't want to think about the hole in his heart should he find the man's corpse.

Staring at the door, unfortunately, wasn't going to give him the answers he needed, and giving his customary three raps against the door, waited to see if Mal was around. He'd watched her enter the building twenty or so minutes ago, and hoped she hadn't managed to slip out undetected. If so, he would reach out to her via mobile. Something he probably should have done so beforehand.

"Mon cher! What are you doing here," Mal's surprise was something she rarely hid, and standing at the door, face to face with Eames, she was practically beaming. It had been far too long since the forger had visited, and the last they talked, he was just about to take on another job. With Arthur, no less. She remembered the reactions when she first introduced them, and wondered if they were going to kill each other before the job was done. Now, she knew they rarely worked apart. Which made Eames' visit strange.

"Where's Arthur? Is he not with you?" She peered out the door, and wondered if maybe the man wasn't hiding somewhere, waiting for the perfect time to make his presence know. "You two didn't have a fight, did you?"

Eames couldn't help the chuckle that came from Mal's accusation. At times, they did have their fights. Just like any other couple. But they very rarely brought in outside help. And they never discussed it with Mal. Which made her question all the more amusing. It also hurt, knowing that somewhere Arthur was out there, possibly waiting on someone to find him. Or to put him out of his misery.

"No, nothing like that. I swear," he told her as she dragged him into the flat, trying to play off just how concerned he was. Eames knew that Mal would understand the feelings, and the concern, that came with loving someone in the business. He just didn't want to burden her more than he already was. They were bound to have their own problems, and adding his to it wasn't something he normally did. But then, Arthur disappearing wasn't normal either. Which mean he had to go to extraordinary means to get him back.  
"Arthur's – he never showed up for our meeting, Mal, and all the feelers I put out have come up empty," he finally confessed, running a tired hand through his own hair. Eames couldn't remember when he'd last slept, having spent far too much time trying to track the point man down. He knew it wouldn't do anyone any good, to work on such little sleep. But what choice did he have? For all he knew, Arthur could be dead, or worse. And the what ifs were honestly killing him. He just wanted to know one way or another what had happened to the point man.

"Sit. Let me make some calls." It was hard _not_ to notice the concern in Eames' voice, and the way he held himself. Mal knew that, given the right circumstances, Eames had a protective streak. He'd shown it many times with her, and when she'd introduced him to Dom, had seen it on a whole new level. She had hoped at some point, that he would find someone to complete his life, and when she'd introduced him to Arthur, secretly hoped the younger man would be that for him. Their first job together had been a disaster, but she'd been secretly pleased to hear they had formed a professional bond. When the rumours started making the rounds about their personal bond, she knew introducing the two had been the right thing. Now, she would do whatever it took to make certain Arthur was found. Alive, and in one piece, preferably. 

Eames couldn't sit. No matter how many times he'd tried, he just couldn't force himself to sit, knowing that somewhere Arthur was missing. And he couldn't just pace around Mal's living room, either. Not that it wasn't big enough. He just wasn't that rude a person to incessantly pace around a room Instead, he walked over to the one window in the main room, and stared out over the city, wondering if all of this was going to be for naught, or if the point man really was alive. He'd thought he know, should something actually happen to Arthur. So far, his instincts were telling him the point man was still alive, and for now, he would go on that.

"Eames, I heard about Arthur," Dom wasn't too sure what to say, and comforting words had never been his thing. But Arthur was like family to him, and family was something you did anything for. If there was _anything_ he and Mal could do, it would be done. Though, judging by the look he was getting from the forger, he knew coming here hadn't been the first thing the man thought of. It was no secret that he and Eames had issues between them. And it was no secret that the issues were all related to Mal. Dom had just hoped that things would have been better by now. Apparently, he was mistaken.

"Thanks, Dom. I just – " Their conversation, thankfully, was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and looking towards where he remembered Mal disappearing to, saw her standing there with a look he'd never really seen on her face before. Had she finally found out what happened to Arthur? Or had she, too, come up empty handed. Eames wasn't too sure if he was ready to hear that her own contacts had come up empty. They each had their own people to contact in times of need, and Mal's tended to have some that knew almost everything that happened in the dream sharing world.

"Mal, what is it? What did you find out?" The silence in the room was deafening. Eames knew she had found something out. The look on her face changed from worry, to an odd comforting type look. Either Arthur was dead, or something worse had happened. Whatever it was, he wished she would just tell them.

"A week ago, a man matching Arthur's description was seen arriving in Sarajevo," her words were carefully picked out, and Mal knew that it wouldn't take much to set Eames off on a suicide mission. Her contacts had also told her that Arthur had been unconscious at the time, and in the company of more than a handful hired thugs. She wasn't about to allow Eames to charge off _and_ end up getting both himself and Arthur killed. 

"They also mentioned him being in the company of a tall, blonde woman – "

"Sylvia." It was slightly surprising to hear a name come from both Eames and Dom. Mal wondered if it had anything to do with a job they'd pulled without her. Neither of them had mentioned anything, but knowing both men the way she did, it wouldn't have surprised her one bit if something had happened. Any other time, and she wouldn't have pushed the issue, but with Arthur missing, all she could do was give both men a pointed look that dared them to not bother explaining what the hell they knew.

"They're not after Arthur," Dom knew the instant Mal described the woman just who they were after. And it had everything to do with a job they'd pulled in Toronto. He remembered seeing Sylvia when they were casing their mark, trying to figure out the best way of going about it. At the time, he had no idea she was involved in dream sharing, or even with their mark. Now, though, it all made sense. She'd been on the job, as well, and somehow, they'd gotten the information before her team. No wonder she was out for his blood.

"Dom. What do you mean they're not after Arthur," his words were a thinly veiled threat, and should the architect give an unsatisfactory answer, Eames was prepared to go through with it. The last time they'd worked together, Cobb held shit back, and it had almost cost them their lives. Now, once again, it seemed as if he was holding something back. And instead of all their lives, it was just Arthur's. If he hadn't cared for Mal as much as he did, he would have killed the bastard on the spot. _After_ he got the information he needed.

"She's after _me_ , Eames."

Eames didn't even bother waiting for an explanation, before he shoved Dom against the closest wall, his hand immediately closing around his throat. It would have been so easy to kill him. All he needed to do was squeeze, and crush one simple bone, and Cobb would be dead in a manner of hours. It would be so easy, and so very simple.

"If he's dead, Dom, I'm coming for you next." He didn't even bother to hide the threat that time, and were it not for the firm hand on his arm, he would have killed the man right then and there. But, as always, Mal had a way of calming him down, and giving the woman one last glance, left their flat. Eames had one stop to make, before he could find the first flight out of Paris and into Sarajevo. Hopefully, Arthur would still be in one piece. Even with a week's head start, he knew the point man would at least hold out for as long as possible. Unless, they'd decided to use a PASIV, and then, there was no telling what sort of shape he'd find the man in.

\---

_Sarajevo_

"Arthur, c'mon now. Time to for us to go."

"You – you're not real," came his painful reply. Arthur knew it wasn't Eames. Just like he knew they were in a dream. Were it actually Eames, he wouldn't have felt the constant presence of people around them. Had it actually been the forger, he would have said, or even _done_ , something to prove that it really was him, and not some sort of trick. It wasn't him, though. Whoever it was had gotten the accent down, and had he actually opened his eyes, could have probably seen how good a job they'd done on his looks. But it wasn't him. It was yet _another_ trick, another ploy to get the information they desired from him. How many times was it going to take before they figured it out? How long before they got the message? He had no idea what they were talking about, and beating it out of him wasn't going to work.

"Oh, darling. That's where you're wrong. I'm just as real as you. Now, c'mon. Let's get going."

Arthur wasn't about to explain that he couldn't just get up and leave, that he'd been tied to the chair, and that if he wanted to leave, they would have to untie him. It also didn't help that he was tired. Exhausted, really, when he thought about it. How long had he been missing? Weeks? Months? He'd lost track of time; what with dying, waking up top side long enough for them to put him back under, and then dying again. All he wanted was some sort of peace – whether that meant dying, or living, he didn't care. Just that it would all end. Of course, he could have given up Mal's flat in Paris. That would have given him the peace he desired. But it would have also left him with a lot more guilt. He wasn't going to turn in his friends. Not for his own life.

"No, you're not," again his words were filled with pain. Even though they'd stopped with the physical torture, there was still the numerous gun shots, broken bones, and other injuries that his mind refused to let him forget from their earlier sessions. Arthur could tell his resolves were slowly wearing down, and that eventually, he would give up what they wanted. They _knew_ just how to get to him, and continually using Eames was breaking down every single wall he'd placed up the moment he'd been captured.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself, pet? We could have left by now. Instead, we're just stuck here, waiting."

The searing pain in his shoulders was something he had grown accustomed to, and the scream that followed, was one that he could no longer hold in. Arthur had lost count how many times they'd shot him, and how many times he'd bitten his tongue trying to keep them from knowing just how much they'd broken him down. He'd been through all of this before. Though, unlike last time, he was slowly starting to question whether or not he was dreaming. He could feel his totem in his pants pocket, but the way they had him tied up, it was impossible to feel it, let alone throw it. Soon, he knew what little grasp of reality he had left, would be gone. By that time, it wouldn't matter who came to rescue him. All he would ask for was death, to put an end to it all.

"You're not real, you're not real," he whispered, over and over again. It was the only way he could remind himself that the projection, or whatever it was, wasn't really Eames. His forger wouldn't have continued on with the torture. His forger wouldn't have taunted him the way this one had. His Eames loved him. Didn't he?


	5. Chapter 5

_Twelve days post job – Sarajevo_

Between the time it took to leave Paris, and his arrival in Sarajevo, Eames was at the point of desperation. Or, quite possibly murder. He wasn't quite sure which, at the moment. Not that anyone would have known that. He'd purposefully kept all his feelings hidden away, only showing slight frustration at the travel delays, like any other traveller would have done. The last thing he wanted to do was tip of Sylvia that he was in town. If she even caught a whisper of his arrival, there was no telling what she would do with Arthur. If she was still in town, and if the point man was still alive. All of this was based on assumptions, and he knew that it was the wrong way to go about things. But it was either that, or go in with the proverbial guns blazing, and something told him that that particular action wouldn't go over well. No, he would need a semi-well thought out plan if he wanted to get Arthur out in one piece.

After settling into a hotel, and getting more information from Mal, he'd spent the rest of his first day in the city casing out the warehouse. Sylvia had picked the perfect place to hide out – an abandoned warehouse well outside the city limits. Who in their right mind would actually think of looking in a war torn country, and an abandoned warehouse? No wonder he'd had a difficult time trying to track down where Arthur had ended up. They were hiding, quite literally, in a place no one would have ever thought to look. And even worse, they were right in their mark's backyard. Their last job could have been one set up, and they never would have known it. 

All of this was quickly adding up to something he honestly didn't want to think about. He'd already spent the day figuring out the ins and outs of the warehouse, and having already met with one of his many arms dealers in the area, was more than adequately equipped. There was also the sedative he'd gotten, so if they were hooked up to a PASIV, he could give it to them, and then send them straight into limbo. He just had to wait until the right time. Eames hated to wait. Even though, as a forger, he had the patience to study a mark for weeks. When it came to Arthur, he didn't have it. No one knew what sort of condition he was in, nor if he was even alive. 

The only way for him to find out would be to break into the place. There were only two guards on the outside, which meant that Sylvia was cocky enough to think no one would ever find her. Though, it was quite possible there were more guarding them on the inside, but something told him she wouldn't have thought that far ahead. He remembered the Montreal job, and how she had been so assured of everything. It was one of her many flaws, and the one thing he would use against her that night.

\---

Getting into the warehouse had been easy. Almost _too_ easy. Eames had always thought that if something was too easy, there was bound to be something harder in the future. He had no problem killing, and then hiding the guards bodies off in the bushes. All part of the job, he told himself. But once he was inside the warehouse, he was left wondering just what else would be waiting for him. It was a virtual maze inside, and around any corner could be someone waiting to kill any intruder. Those sort of odds weren't ones he cared for, and being a gambling sort of man, knew the sort of odds he would have preferred. But they were what they were, and if he wanted to find his point man, he would need to ignore everything that was screaming inside of him, and make his way through the stacks of shipping crates.

One step in front of the other, he told himself, as he slowly made his way through the warehouse. With each step he took, Eames took a moment to listen for anything that might give away more guards. It seemed strange, that there were only the two guards out front, and none inside. Then again, he knew Sylvia, and she probably took whatever was left of her team, under, to get the information from Arthur. If that left her with only two guards, he might actually have some sort of a chance of pulling it all off. It still seemed too easy. _Nothing_ ever went off without a hitch. There was always something that went wrong with their jobs. This, though, had him wondering what the hell was going on. 

Eames shook off his doubts, and continued to stalk through the stacks. So far, he hadn't come across anything, but that meant nothing. They could all be in hiding, for all he knew. It was odd that the only sound he heard was his own heart, beating erratically in his ears. Normally, he would have heard signs of people mulling about, but there was nothing. The longer it went on, the more he was starting to think this was a _bad_ idea. Dom had offered to come with him, but after their incident in Paris, he was the _last_ man he wanted by his side. He needed someone he could trust, and after Arthur, there really wasn't anyone left. Which left him on his own for this little venture. Not the best of decisions, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

His last few steps brought him into a clearing, and right in the middle of it, was not only a PASIV, but Arthur, Sylvia, and the rest of her crew. From what he could see of the point man, he looked close to death, if he wasn't already. It was just hard to tell, as the lights were casting strange shadows. There was also the urge to run, and double check to make certain the point man was alive. That had been he first thing that came to mind the instant he saw him tied to the chair. But he was fighting that urge, knowing if he just ran out into the open, it would draw attention from anyone who might have been there. Dying, after coming so close to the end goal, wasn't something he wanted to think about, let alone happen. 

Though, judging by the layout of the warehouse, if anyone else had been there, he would have encountered them already. As he hadn't, Eames had a feeling he would be in the clear. With his left hand, he made certain the syringe filled with sedative was still in his pocket. Knowing it was still there, and that he had a silencer attached to the semi-automatic in his right hand, he quickly dashed from his hiding place, out into the open. He took out one of the unconscious men, before quickly dashing around, to the others and injecting them with the sedative. Taking out Sylvia was going to be the last thing he did, and as he knelt next to Arthur, hoped the man was still in one piece – both mentally, and physically. 

He still had a pulse, albeit a weak one. And there were two hastily cared for wounds – one in his shoulder, and one in his leg. Both of which would need to be tended to before they could even leave the country. Luckily, his hotel was the sort that never asked questions, and giving the point man once last glance, walked over to the PASIV, and took out the last remaining line, sticking the needle into his wrist, and pressed the button. Once the chemicals started to flow through his veins, he made certain to concentrate on the man he'd killed, so that he would appear as the man in the dream. Otherwise, he was going to have a lot more trouble on his hands than he already did.

When he woke up, he found himself staring at grey walls. To the left was a corridor, and to the right, was an office. Eames wasn't too sure where they'd kept Arthur, but something told him, it wouldn't be in the office. Though, he did hear a distinctive _feminine_ voice, and knew he'd found Sylvia. He'd wished there was a mirror, so to know whether or not he'd taken on the appearance of the man from up above. Without it, he had no idea just what he looked liked. And, he honestly didn't care. He wasn't there on some job, wasn't there to impress anyone. He was there to rescue Arthur, and that was all. Anything else, was just an added bonus.

Kicking in the door, Eames didn't even bother to wait before emptying the gun. The first two bodyguards went down relatively quickly. Sylvia, on the other hand, made an attempt to run, and in the end he had no qualms about shooting her in the back. He would take pleasure in knowing they would all spend the rest of whatever lives they had left, in limbo. Even though he felt they deserved more, limbo was at least a fitting punishment. Especially, since he'd yet to go, and all that was down there was raw dream space. For all he knew, they would die the instant they touched whatever ground was down there. A fitting ending to this whole ordeal, if he said so himself. Now, the only thing left to do was find Arthur. 

And with the dream quickly collapsing around him, time was of the essence. Running back out of the office, Eames ran down the corridor, hoping somewhere along the way, he would find Arthur. Even though it seemed to go on forever, he had a feeling whomever designed the dream, knew about the point man's love of mazes and paradoxes. For a brief moment, he thought he'd come across the office he'd just left. But on closer inspection, it wasn't an office. It looked like an interrogation room. And the perfect place for them to hold Arthur hostage, it seemed. There hadn't been any other rooms, other than the office, and without even hesitating, kicked the door open.

"Christ," he hissed, not ready for the sight that lay before him. Eames had seen Arthur in many different states during their time together. But none of them were as bad as what lay before him. What skin was showing, was black, blue, and various shades of purple, his lip seemed to be split, and there was blood staining the white shirt that he had on. Just standing there, he was grateful that he'd already taken care of Sylvia, and her thugs. Otherwise, he would have done the same to them. 

"Arthur, darling?"

"Please, stop. You're not real, Eames. Please just – stop. I'll –" It hurt to talk, it hurt to open his eyes, and Arthur wanted it all to end. He was willing to say anything to get the torture to end. Even give up whatever information they wanted. Just as long as they stopped using Eames to torture him time after time.

"Shh, pet, it's me. I promise, I'm real." It hurt Eames to have to say that he was real, that they'd used his own form to torture Arthur. He wished he had more time to prove to the point man that he was real, and not some forgery, but the dream was quickly collapsing around them, and he needed to get them out fast. Dying from a collapsing building wasn't his preferred method, and he hoped the point man would be okay with him shooting the both of them out. 

"You're not hi – "

"Yes, Arthur, I am," he quickly added, kissing the point man's forehead in an attempt to prove he was as real as they got, "now, shush, close your eyes, and when you wake up, you'll see I'm real, and that I'm getting you out of here."

"I didn't tell them."

"I know you didn't. I know."


	6. Chapter 6

_Six months later – Vancouver, BC_

It had taken a week before they had been able to leave Sarajevo, and then another two weeks before they could fly out of Split. Eames had no idea just what had happened, other than the fact that they had used his own identity to torture Arthur with. Watching him, unable to do much in the way of comforting, had been difficult. All he could think about was the fact that he wasn't real, and that he was still dreaming. Even though, his own totem had told him time and time again that he was in reality. The road back was going to be difficult, but he would be there. No matter what. They were friends, lovers, and partners. He would do whatever it took to help the point man return to his usual self. Even if it meant retiring.

Six months later, though, it seemed as if things were finally starting to turn a corner. The first time they'd gone under together, Arthur's subconscious had ripped him apart in new and very painful ways. It was something Eames never wanted to experience again. And this, from a man, who had been killed many times over, in some very creative ways. Arthur had spent days apologizing for it, and had even gone so far as to tell him he didn't need to stick around. But stick around he did, and after a few short months, was able to go back into the point man's dreams with little problems. Every once and a while, his subconscious would throw a fit, and try to kill him. But that tended to happen after something setting him off in the waking world. 

Eames knew Arthur should talk to someone, maybe even Mal, but each time he brought it up, it was met with strong resistance. The point man had always been stubborn, and always found ways of dealing with things on his own. He just wanted to know that there were other options. Eventually, Arthur would open up, and when he did, he would be right there, listening just like he always did.

"Arthur, can I speak with you for a moment?" He'd gotten the email earlier that day, and had been putting off speaking about it until the last possible moment. They'd gotten many job offers before, but had always declined them, saying they were busy working on other projects. In reality, they'd been slowly working Arthur's subconscious back to the point where it wouldn't attack anything that came into it. Eames tended to get the worst of it, and when Arthur had told him they'd used Mal at one point, tested out their theory and forged into their friend. The reaction hadn't been quite as violent, but it was still there. Now, he hoped things were at the point where they could start to slowly take jobs again.

"Whatever it is, I had no hand in it," his reply, teasing in nature, hid the nerves that always came about when Eames wanted to talk to him. Arthur had slowly, but surely, dealt with what had happened in the warehouse, and was almost to the point where he felt like he could actually move on with the day to day nature of their job. Sitting outside, though, he wondered if maybe it wasn't time to hang things up. Sarajevo had been the second time he'd been kidnapped, and he wasn't sure he could handle it happening a third time.

But looking back at the doorway, seeing Eames and his comforting smile, Arthur knew there was no way either one of them could ever give it up. It was too addicting, and nothing would ever compare to it. He would just need to deal with what had happened, and move on. Simple as that.

"Mal has a job for us. Think you're up for it?"

"Of course, Mister Eames. When do we leave?"


End file.
